


Rain on the Shore

by blueandbronze12



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 10:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10829496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueandbronze12/pseuds/blueandbronze12
Summary: "It's rumored that on stormy days, the ghost of an old mariner appears in Stardew Valley..."





	Rain on the Shore

                The beach was quiet in the early morning, the sound of raindrops splattering against the rocky tide pools a soft counterpoint to the gentle rush of the waves.  There were no merry-makers on the sand, no children gathering shells or amateur anglers hunting for a big catch.  It was only in the silence afforded by the rain that he showed himself.  Only to the truly dedicated.

                He’d stood watch over this length of shoreline for ages, watched as the valley grew, prospered, and fell into decline.  And though the wreckage of his ship rotting in the sand at his feet kept him tied, he could feel it.  Something was shifting, changing.  Something new.

                The old fisherman stumped across the beach, head bent against the rain. His fishing rod and a bucket of bait swung at his side. There was the creak of a swollen wooden door as the poet emerged from his cabin to stare morosely at the sea.  No, neither of them had elicited this feeling.  A smattering of gulls winged through the rain and landed on the old dock, shaking water ineffectually from their feathers.  A crack of thunder startled them airborne before they’d had time to truly settle.

                The white hot flash of lightning obscured everything for a moment.  When it faded, an unfamiliar figure stood before him.  He smiled.  She had come, just as he thought she might. 

                “I – I thought I had met everyone,” she said, nervously fingering the straps of a heavy canvas pack.  Water dripped from the brim of her straw hat as she stammered an introduction.  The new farmer, she’d installed herself at the derelict homestead.  How had she not met him yet? He shook his head lightly, wondering if she noticed that the rain did not land and drip from him as it did from her, instead passing through his form.  If she noticed, she said nothing.

                “I’ve an old amulet.  I’m looking for the right person to pass it on to,” he began, the words ancient and filled with meaning beyond a mere phrase. 

                “An amulet?” she asked, peering at him curiously.  Ah.  So she did not yet know the legends, did not yet understand the traditions of the valley.  He smiled.  But she would, in time. 

                “Aye, lass, but I can see you are not quite ready for it.”

                She protested, but he spoke no further.  It was not yet time.  He could wait.

                Eventually, she grew tired of pleading and retreated.  He watched her navigate the rain-swollen tide pools with some interest.  It had been many years since change had come to the valley. 

                As the rain faded, so did he.  He watched, invisible, as life returned to the beach.  The young teacher and her charges skipped across the sand, eager to see what the storm had blown onto the dunes.  A young man watched the waves pound with sorrow heavy on his shoulders.  He wondered if perhaps he would be the one to receive his amulet.  Perhaps. 

                The seasons changed, bringing the long, sultry days of summer.  He saw the woman many times, gathering clams and coral, fishing in the small inlet.  Occasionally she glanced back at the pile of driftwood where he waited, unseen, but did not approach.  He smiled.  In time, she would come again.  He could feel it.

                Autumn brought cascades of color to the shore.  Vibrant leaves drifted on slight eddies of breeze.  Couples strolled on the beach, enjoying the last days of warmth before winter set in.  The farmer came on occasion, her skin darkened by the summer sun, her hands now callused, but her smile larger and easier, her confidence grown.  Sometimes she walked with the women of the village, but her expression would grow stiff in their company.  Still not quite at home, he noted.  Patience, he thought, patience.  In time it will come.

                He saw her walking with the poet, or the dark-haired man with sadness in his soul.  He watched, waiting.  And through they spoke with fondness, with growing ease and friendship, he knew she was still not yet ready. 

                Then, as the last dregs of autumn faded and he felt the first touch of winter approach, she came again.  She seemed nervous, even shy.  She glanced once at the place where he waited, invisible, then turned away.  All her attention rested on her companion.  Ah, he thought.  At last. 

                The doctor rarely came to the beach, and his footsteps were uncertain on the shifting sand.  What was not uncertain, though, was the shine of wonder in his eyes as he stole glances at the young farmer, clearly entranced by her.  They walked side by side across the sand, fingers occasionally straining towards one another but not quite touching.  When one looked away, the other would sneak a look, staring in amazement, in hunger.

                “You know the old legends of this beach, don’t you?” the man said, his voice thick with apprehension and a flustered eagerness. 

                “Legend?” the farmer asked.

                “They say an old mariner crashed his ship here, long before the town came to be.  That the wreckage of the ship still lays below the sand, tying his spirit to the shore.”

                “Harvey – “ The woman laughed, pushing his shoulder lightly with her own.

                “No really,” he said, a bit more at ease.  “They say that he was in love with the queen of the merfolk, that they had been promised to one another. She gave him a pendant as the token of her love.” The doctor paused, his cheeks turning a pale shade of pink as he looked down at the farmer.  They had stopped walking and she drew close to him, listening in rapt attention.  His blush deepened, and he nervously cleared his throat.  “Some – some people say he seeks out someone to give the pendant to, that whoever presents it to their intended will be granted pure and – “ he stammered, tripping over the last words.  “Pure and everlasting love.” His voice faded into the barest whisper as he finished.  There was a long pause as the couple looked at one another, waiting for something. 

                “You know, Harvey, you’re a great storyteller,” the farmer said finally, resting a hand lightly on his arm.  The doctor turned even redder, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck.  His eyes wrinkled behind his glasses as he smiled. 

                “I usually try to leave that sort of thing to Elliott – “ he said.

                “Mmm,” she murmured.  “Elliott is a good writer, but I’d rather listen to your voice.”

                “I – “ The doctor stammered and instinctively he reached for her.  At that same moment, though, she turned away, staring up the abandoned shore. 

                “An old spirit – “ she said, thoughtfully. 

                The pair soon left the beach, each leaning towards one another just ever so slightly, but never touching.  As their footsteps retreated a cold wind swept over the sand, chasing away the last hints of warmth and bringing winter in its wake. Atop his driftwood grave, the mariner slowly faded away.

                Winter in the valley sent harsh and unrelenting storms, so unlike the gentle, quiet rainfalls of spring or autumn.  The sand was blanketed with snow and the mariner had not the strength to push through into the noise. 

                Instead, he watched as the Doctor walked the shoreline, his green coat soaked through with snowmelt.  Water dripped from his mustache and clouded his glasses.  He cast his eyes wildly across the beach and although he could not show himself, the mariner watched and listened.

                “Please – “ the Doctor whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind. “Please let it be me.”

                He paused and drew an arm across his forehead, uselessly trying to clear the fog from his glasses.  He stared mournfully out at the black sea. 

                “Who am I kidding?” he murmured, his words nearly obscured by the whirling snow.  “She could have anyone she wanted, man or woman.  Everyone loves her.  She’d never want a useless old man like me.” Yet still, he paced the edge of the water, sloughing through the heavy snow, watching the shadowy edge of the forest for some inclination. 

                Every day he returned, hope writ large across his face.  Most days he walked, searching, pleading quietly.  He cursed, too, cursed the beach, cursed the snow, cursed himself for a fool.  In time she would see, he was sure.  She would find a younger man, a more handsome and successful one.  She would leave him behind. And still, he came. 

                In time the snow melted, the winds grew warm and welcoming once again.  The mariner heard birdsong in the forests, and he waited.  He knew it was nearly time.  With spring came the flowers blooming, the water shifting from winter ink to aquamarine.  And the snow gave way to the first gentle rains. 

                Had the clouds not obscured the sun, it would have barely crested the horizon when she appeared before him.  The mariner felt her approach, pushed his way into the warmth and quiet of the first spring day. 

                In a year she had changed a great deal.  She stood straighter, more sure of herself.  And while she fiddled with the straps of her bag still, the nervousness was outweighed by a glitter in her eye. 

                “I’ve heard stories – “ she began, her voice cracking a bit.  He smiled at her. 

                “There be a special someone in your heart, aye?” he asked her.  There was no denying it – she seemed to glow.   At last. 

                After ages of stillness, he finally shifted.  He reached behind his neck and untied the knot that rested there.  A long cord withdrew from under his clothing, and he presented her with the whorled blue shell.  A simple thing, at first glance, but he saw the awe in her eyes. 

                “Is this it?” she asked, voice hushed. 

                “Aye, lass.  Give it to him.  He’ll understand.” He nodded over her shoulder and she turned. 

                The doctor stood on the edge of the beach, one foot still resting on the plank bridge.  At the sight of the farmer, his face lit up.  He moved towards her but stopped when he saw what lay in her hands. 

                “You – you found it?” he asked, astonished.  A myriad of emotions crossed his face – shock, hope, desire. Disappointment.  His shoulders slumped. “I’m so happy for you,” he said, voice growing thick.  He couldn’t meet her eyes as he asked: “Who is the lucky one?”

                “Harvey, I – “ she paused, anguish filling her voice.  “I wanted to give it to you.”

                Everything seemed to still.   The sound of the rain and the waves faded as the pair stared at one another. 

                “Me?” he said, softly.  She nodded and took a few steps forward.  She reached around his neck and tied the cord, letting the blue pendant hang bright against his sodden clothes.  Slowly he reached up a shaking hand and clutched at it. “I accept,” he whispered, and drew her towards him. 

                The mariner watched, feeling true joy for the first time in many, many years.  The farmer turned once last time to look back at him and he nodded to her.

                “Glad to see that pendant worked out for you, lass.” He smiled, and faded into the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> First posted piece on AO3, hope you enjoyed it. Harvey is precious and needs more happiness.


End file.
